Their City's Finest
by prentiss-be-mine
Summary: Xover with SVU. A prolific serial killer/rapist evades New York City and Boston, targeting strong brunettes. Somehow through their initial bickering for dominance, Jane Rizzoli and Olivia Benson form a mutual bond. Perhaps something more...
1. Crime

**A/N: This came to me in a dream and I had to write it down. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the SVU or Rizzoli & Isles characters. **

Jane grumbles distastefully at her television, clenching her jaw at yet _another _body found naked in a shallow grave. This has been the third body found this week with the same M.O- eyes scratched out, tape veiling their mouths with a thick red 'x', heavily adorned cuts and bruises along the victim's repugnant broken bone.

"Fuck!" she spits out, tossing back another swig of her beer as she pulls the roots of her unruly curls. Just when she thinks she has a strong lead- a forensic psychologist in Boston-that she could pacify the nerves of all brunettes- his apparent preference- in the city, another fucking body turns up when Doctor Connors is in custody.

Maura is beside her, body stiff and annoyed, not necessarily from the deaths- though it fears her that a man was this prolific and clandestine. But what perturbs her most is that Jane fits the profile: tall, dark hair, independent and accomplished in her work. Jane is also relentless and stubborn, if you will, and it keeps Maura up at night to think if the combative brunette keeps going down the road she's going, she might end up like the twelve women- in _Boston-_in a shallow grave. She shivers at the thought of it. When she begs Jane to lessen her work hours, what Jane quickly- if not characteristically in her nature- denies, Maura grows desperate to keep her friend safe. Her desperation for security grows so strong that she does something she _knows _will upset her friend. _When you hate me, at least you'll be alive. _

"Jane I…" Maura bites her lip, but takes a deep breath and continues. "You're going to hate me for this but, I made a couple of calls, and…well, you know how there are killings with the same M.O in New York?"

"Don't I know it," Jane snorts, but her eyes lay warily on the blonde. She's been bathing in this case for weeks, and yes she knows _everything _about the unsub's M.O- including where he seems to fly off to:New York. But still…Maura says she's going to hate her and she wants to know why. "Why I am going to hate you?"

Again Maura chews on the side of her bottom lip, hazel eyes cascading to her hands. Jane growls, a toned that isn't menacing but not exactly friendly either, which makes the blonde's eyes align with concerned and impatient browns.

"I sort of…my family are good friends with Jack McCoy- the District Attorney of New York- and…I just want you safe," she says in a breath, adamant about making her seemingly disloyal actions justifiable.

"Maura," now Jane's growl is dark, menacing, catching the awkwardness and fear within the blonde beside her.

"I convinced McCoy to draft you to New York-" Jane already has her teeth gritted, and Maura's next statement is in a squeaked plea "- You need all the assistance you could gain for this serial killer and I figured two units are better than one and-"

"Maura why the fuck would you do that?" she snaps, growling as she jumps from her couch. "How the hell do you think it's remotely okay to completely defy my request, Maura? In what part is it difficult to grasp in that big ol' brain of yours, that _I don't want any help! _Especially from those fucking Yankees!"

"How about letting your pride get the best of you," Maura growls, standing up, her voice uncharacteristically deep and sharp for her soft tone. "You can't see that you're constantly putting yourself in danger-"

"Last time I checked I'm a cop," Jane growls. "I've been doing it for years, Maur. Why does it bother you now?"

"Because he can _win_, Jane!" Maura screams. "He can hurt you and I can't-"

"Are you…are you…doubting my ability as a detective?" Jane growls through clenched teeth, appalled at her own words as if it was sulfuric acid. Yes, Maura and she have had disagreements about a case, and yes, Maura has commented and teased her blue-collar personality, but never has she ever doubted her ability to do her job.

And needless to say, it fucking hurt!

"I am not doubting anything Jane-"

"It sure fucking sounds like it!" She screams rage in her veins; frustration from the tears circling her eyes.

"It's…it's…it's-"

"It's _what, _Maura? Spit it out!"

"You're so fucking hardheaded!" she growls out in a screech, tears falling down her cheek. "You're so warped up in this case that you don't even realize how _I _feel. You have no idea how terrifying it is for me when you leave my office, and off to find a new perp. I can't help it, Jane- I just can't help but think of you like one of those women-"

Jane's anger dims when she lets out a sigh and interrupts the blonde. Maura didn't mean to be condescending when she blatantly ignored Jane's request. That was the stem of Jane's anger: Maura's betrayal and disloyalty. But her like this, right here in tears, shows she's done this for _Jane's _benefit and not her own.

It makes her let out a sigh at her foolish behavior. "I'm not going anywhere, Maur," she offers with a small smile as she leans in for hug, but Maura eases away.

"I bet that was what Lauren Cinner, the defense attorney, said. I'm sure Francine Wallace, the pathologist, said that as well. How about Wendy Felipe, the investor, Jane? These women are, _were, _strong-minded, independent individuals, and your perp used their tenacity and pride to his advantage. Jane you're my…" Maura is truly broken down about this case and Jane could now see it in her hazel eyes and quivering lips.

Maura Isles was terrified.

"Jane you're my best friend- hell Jane you're my _only _friend and I _refuse _to have you on my slab as I finish your autopsy!" Her body is shaky, but Jane knows it's from defiance and blatant fear of what's to come.

It affected her as well. There were times when she burst out in cold sweat from the vividly horrific nightmare of her being the next victim- where she is fully aware of the crime that's to come. But Jane didn't let it get the best of her. She's sure the twelve women didn't ask to be victims, and she isn't backing down because Maura _asked _her to. She cares about Maura deeply, sometimes she thinks that surpasses appropriate platonic intimacy- but she puts her job over everyone, even her own life.

But now Maura has a point. She can't find the perp in a shallow grave.

"The only reason," she says sternly, narrowing her dark eyes, "and I repeat, the_ only _reason why I am agreeing to this, because he seems to be in New York and his body count is higher and his attacks are more brutal. I am no pussy, Maur-"

"I know," Maura smiles through remaining tears as she leaps in for a hug, clutching the detective's neck, body connecting with the taller woman's. "Thank you…"

Jane returns her hug and accepts the doctor's warmth, but doesn't look too far into it. Maura gets like this, all emotional when a case overwhelms her. And for someone who always seem at poise with herself and the horrific things she sees through her work, Doctor Isles is very sensitive and naïve to the capabilities to her reactions to human contact.

But sadly, Maura Isles is straight.

The only possible upside to this case is that Jane is too involved in her work to think about Maura, and the dismembered joints of his innocent victims set a twisting to her stomach that deadens her libido.

"Sure," Jane mumbles, inconspicuously rubbing the tear that escapes her eye before she leans away and lets out a dreary sigh. "Looks like I should…call them I guess-"

"That's already taken care of," Maura interrupts.

Jane furrows her brow. "What?"

"Well," Maura's grin turns sheepish. "I figured since your pride is already bruised, that I could save your delusional humiliation by having McCoy assign you as if it was a specific assignment, rather than having it appear as if you are requesting help."

Jane makes a small concurred nod, but her eyes still remain cautious on the doctor's. This woman is always full of surprises.

"So…when am I leaving?" Jane grumbles, ruffling the roots of her hair as she inadvertently scopes her room.

"Tonight," Maura clenches her eyes shut when she hears the detective's audible growl.

"What?" Jane spits out, the vein at her temple irritably pulsing.

"There were two killings in two days yesterday, and that timeframe is a lot shorter than Boston's murders. And since you're so motivated up here, I figured you'd be the same in Manhattan."

"Okay," Jane groans, rolling her eyes. "Looks like I need to pack. Yay," goes her sardonic reply.

"Well…that's arranged for you as well," Maura cheekily smiles, tugging on her bottom lip while she bats her long lashes. She continues on, not giving Jane a chance to rip her head off. "You slept for a whole hour, Jane. And I wanted to do something productive like…pack your belongings," she nervously chuckles. "It's probably been the longest you've slept since this whole calamity began, am I wrong?"

Jane twitches a brow but reluctantly shakes her head. She dreamt, slept, and breathed this case. And the vivid nightmares she has, some recaps of the victims, mostly of herself, killed in various ways, mainly swim in her insomniac conscious.

"Fine, since you did all of _that _for me. I think you forgot to book a hotel for me as well; hmm?" she chuckles sardonically, shaking her head to pass off the frivolous comment.

She only stills when Maura keeps that sheepish smile on her face. "We'll be staying at the Ritz-"

"The- the _what?" _Jane's eyes widen. "Maur, I can't afford-"

"All expenses paid by an apologetic friend who probed into your professional life and…personal boundaries. I'll pretend that I didn't see what I thought I saw at the bottom of your sock drawer." Her voice fades at that, as her cheeks glows a tinted red.

Jane blushes as well but hides her embarrassment with a cocky smirk. "I tell Ma not to touch my shit. Now you know why."

Maura chuckles softly, running her finger's through her hair.

Jane takes a glance at her watch, hinting that it's six-thirty. "I guess we should get ready soon, huh?"

"Yeah we should.

* * *

><p>Olivia's outwardly growls as she violently plops the manila folder on her desk, gripping the roots of her short cropped hair. This sick prick has been causing havoc for three months, in both New York and possibly Boston- though she doubts that. There are sick fucks in this world, the sickest in New Yorkin her opinion, but she feels it's unlikely for one man to kill twenty women, in <em>two <em>different states, within three months.

Apparently Cragen didn't think so.

If it is indeed the same killer, that means he's devolved to rape since the Boston crimes are first. And considering it a high-profiled case, McCoy tells Cragen, who then tells his team, that a Boston homicide detective will be coming over to assist the case.

Olivia grumbles at that. She looked up the upcoming detective, sneakily swiping the name from the Captain's desk, and found that the detective is a female: Jane Rizzoli. _Rizzoli? The fuck is a Rizzoli? _It sounds Italian, meaning this one is probably a spit-fire, a pest, a dominant who seeks control in every situation she's handed to. _That'll stop here, _Olivia coldly thinks.

This is her habitat. _She's _the head honcho of her unit, the one female that brings a soft aura to the dark precinct. But here is this other woman, a woman she still didn't Google yet, and she's going to try to conquer what took her years to grasp. _That_ definitely was not going to happen.

Curiosity gets to the detective and she googles the name. Various articles pop out, _Siblings Detective Jane Rizzoli and Police officer Frank Rizzoli, Jr. taken hostage by Hoyt's victim, _and other articles that are typical for a hardworking detective. But one that catches her eye: _Boston__ Hero, Detective Jane Rizzoli. _Again the curiosity aches at her and when she opens the article, she finds a dark-haired woman held hostage- who she identifies as Rizzoli considering the other articles captured the same female- by a man and could see a splatter of blood from behind them. _She…she shot herself? _As she continues to read the article, it turns out Rizzoli risked her life by shooting herself in the abdomen, and killed a dirty cop.

Olivia has to admit she's impressed with the mystery woman- it takes courage and dedication to the job for someone to risk killing them to save hostages- but she isn't going to let this one off that easily. One thing she hates more than someone disrupting her unit are detectives who have big heads from their success. If Rizzoli is going to be any help to this case she needs to know that the detective has the heart and dying dedication to help the victim, and not their conviction rate.

"They're here," Munch mumbles to her as he passes by and sits by his desk, tilting his head toward the elevator.

The woman is taller than she expected and very thin, but she compensates with her dark, intensive brown eyes and brisk stride. She seems tough, confident, distant, competent; just another copy of Olivia.

But there's only one way to figure if she could truly stay on the same dark level as she.

Grill the _hell _out of her.

**A/N: Stay? Go? Sex? Full-story? I'll only know with reviews. **


	2. Tension

**A/N: For people's information, just incase you somehow didn't get informed from the summary, this is a Jane Rizzoli and Olivia Benson story. Yes Maura will be in this, and Maura will be in a lot of it because she is Jane's friend, but if I wanted to make this Rizzles, I would've clearly added Maura's name in the category. The only reason why I didn't make it an 'official crossover' is because apparently not a lot of people read SVU/R&I crossovers. Granted, it doesn't mean I won't add Rizzles goodness- or maybe an affair. I'm just telling you from the jump that this story won't surround them. If that is what you're looking for, I am sure there are thousands of stories that suit your benefit. Now on with the story, shall we?**

…

Olivia stalks the tall lanky brunette before her and gives her a blatant and unabashed look-over. Her eyes are the first thing that captures Olivia's attention; it is what Olivia assumes the detective, if she is truly wise, uses to her advantage. Those brown eyes spit at her like two circuits, but Olivia's sure they could dim into a soft ember for the victims- the very few that are left in homicide. _Lucky bitch..._

But now is not one of those times where the Boston detective sees the good in someone. Olivia didn't care for her initial curt attitude because she is only here for one reason, and that's to apprehend the son-of-a-bitch who mutilated twenty women.

They are currently in a visual standoff; two sets of dark eyes pointedly on the other- not too sharp to alert the other detectives surrounding them, but not soft and welcoming to undermine the other's dominance. It's only after an intentional cough from Elliot that Jane extends her arm with a tight smile, displaying two brilliant slits embedded in her cheeks. The smile and gesture aren't friendly; it's more forced, condescending. Olivia doesn't mind, though, because she throws back a smile as she returns the firm handshake; her smile curling into something colder, if not more menacing than the Boston-native. They silently show each other that though they might not care for each other's company, they'll compartmentalize their unsubtle deflection in order to complete this case to the best of their ability.

And Olivia is okay with that.

"Detective Jane Rizzoli," she says, adding a curt nod to her shake. Her voice is resonant, something seemingly uncharacteristic to the tall woman before her. Past the long hours of all-nighters and turmoil of the job, Jane is a beautiful woman- dark hair flowing past her shoulders in loose curls, body long and statuesque in her charcoal-gray pantsuit. Olivia didn't know what to expect, perhaps a lighter tone and someone with a plainer look, but not this. Not that she should be thinking of her in the first place. They have work to do.

"Detective Olivia Benson," she replies, purposely deepening her tone, adding a slight growl, literally getting _primal _in her habitat.

Again, a visual battle forms between the two women but it is short-lived. It is Rizzoli's turn to give the apparent look-over, she stopping at Olivia's badge and gun before she settles back her face. Her expression is different than the hardened gaze she gave a few seconds ago. It isn't soft no; her dark eyes still lay fiercely on the New York native. But there is something else there, with her dark brow slightly arched. And just when Olivia tries to sit there and analyze the detective's change in mood, the long-haired woman makes a slight shake of the head and lets out a snort, a displeased huff from her nostrils, as she sets her dark eyes on her Elliot.

Olivia replies with an inward snort.

"So," she says, her voice low and even. "What do we got?"

_We _don't have anything, Olivia glooms in her head.

"Lindsey-" Elliot begins the presentation, but Olivia wants none of that. She wants to show ol' Boston who runs things over here.

"Lindsey Tanner," Olivia interrupts, ignoring the confused glare Elliot gives her, "thirty-four, a cardiologist, found on eighty-third and Madison." She then points to the butchered eyeless woman on the wide screen. "Witness Tiana Haven, a colleague of Lindsey, says she heard a scream and a loud thud at around eight-thirty p.m. She looks out the window and sees nothing, but she dials nine-one-one anyway, at eight-forty two p.m-"

"Why so long?"

"What?"

Olivia looks over to the brunette, whose eyes are still on the big screen until she shoots her gaze to the New-York native.

"Why did she wait so long?" Jane's eyes feel heavy on her, but, for once, she doesn't take it personal and takes it as her expression for business.

"She says that she figured it was nothing, but she got a hunch to call-"

"A _hunch?" _ The tall detective bitterly mocks as her eyes bounce from the detective to the screen. "There's a man on the news known for mutilating twenty women with dark hair, and she felt a _hunch _to call after twelve minutes?" The wavy-haired detective arches her brow, ending it with an incredulous snort. "You said she's a cardiologist, what's the witness do?"

Olivia furrows her brow, detecting the pessimism, detecting the incredulousness in the taller woman's aura. And Olivia didn't like it one bit, but she answers it to show her professionalism. "Tiana Haven…" she takes a moment to put the blonde on the screen, "is a registered nurse-"

"Obviously someone lower in rank."

The room silences after Rizzoli's remark but either she's too stupid to realize it, or she just doesn't care.

Olivia could really feel her pulse begin to rise within the vein of temple, and now she could literally _taste _the slurs against the rim of her mouth but, somehow, she curbs herself into saying "You determine the witness's capability based on their occupation?" she asks through clenched teeth, narrowing her eyes when Rizzoli lays a curious eye on her.

"No," she simply states, overlooking the obvious disapproval. "I consider the reason of their actions due to their jobs. Were they friends-"

"You don't have to be friends with people you work with." Olivia could hear the ice laced in her tone when she spat that out, so she could imagine the other detective's reaction to this.

As she thought the detective isn't stupid- McCoy wouldn't have spent taxpayer's money to fly her out here from Boston. The long-haired detective gets Olivia's words the moment they were spat at her and for a minute, that initial moment, she frowns as she narrows her eyes. But that anger fades with bitterness and incredulousness that makes the New York native want to hurl.

"Though this is true," her dark eyes are on Olivia's as she says those words, also signifying that she understands the verbal jab, until she settles them back on to the screen, "it brings to question what her motives are. Did she resent her, or was jealous of Lindsey's success-"

"So you're saying that Haven did this?" Elliot arches a thick brow as he folds his arms across his broad chest.

"No," Jane shakes her head as she glances at him. "I'm just saying that we need to look into the possibilities, even the ones that are the least likely. Considering we don't have a lead, we need to probe in this more prominently."

Once again silence envelops the room, but the aura has changed. There isn't awkward glances exchanged between the New York detectives; now they were all nodding concurringly at that, though one remains still.

"Why don't you enlighten us, Rizzoli?" Olivia couldn't hold back the edge, the uncertain and, possibly, undeserved bitterness and disapproval in her tone. Her reasoning and justification are hard to construe. On one end she needs to display her pride and dominance to this newcomer to show Boston whose boss, but on the next she seems immature and is irritated by her petulance. They are all trying to get to the same goal, after all, to apprehend the sick fuck who did this.

Again, Olivia hints this as her trademark, Rizzoli furrows her brow until she lets one arch and keeps her dark eyes solely on Olivia as she explains, "Our perp has raped and murdered eight women in New York in the past month. All brunettes, middle-aged, and are successful in their professions. Note, all of these women have jobs where they hold someone's life in their hands. Investor: financial security. Cardiologist: life-saving," she goes on listing. "Defense Attorney: freedom."

"You think he knows them?" Munch pitches in.

"Quite possibly, but there is no guarantee. It's obvious that he has a strong hatred for these women, or what they represent makes him tick. Perhaps he sees them as a strong female figure in his life that he resents- a neglectful mother maybe? Abusive? Alcoholic-"

"Being an offspring of an alcoholic doesn't make you a raping murderer." She clenches her jaw at that, upset she let the newcomer get the best of her; hearing the growl within her own voice. That hit close to home; more than she likes to think or Rizzoli would ever know.

The whole squad looks at her, eyeing her reaction, awkwardly looking back at the screen because they know her back-story. Rizzoli's dark eyes soften on hers and Olivia feels a growl coming along her throat. She hates when people look at her like some mental case, as if she couldn't function when someone mentioned her mother- or anything involving struggle. That was why very few people know about her life- the little that she knew herself.

"That's not what I said." Her tone and expression are dark, grime even, but something in those dark eyes say apology and…pity. "Moving along…"

Okay she is sick of hearing this woman's voice, but the tone didn't annoy her. Actually the low, resonant tenor is kind of…sexy, if you will. What annoys her is the plausibility of the detective's words, the truth that Olivia also thought of but was stupid to say. Olivia would give Rizzoli a check for her wits and competence, but she isn't off the hook just yet.

It is only the first night after all.

"Alright, alright," Cragen walks in from his office. "Go home; it's late. Be here nine o'clock sharp."

The men nod and mumble approvingly as they ruffle to their desks to get their things. Olivia does the same, though she seems to be the only reluctant one. It's not like she could sit there and have a placid sleep knowing that there is a horrific serial rapist and murderer are around. They should let her stay, but Cragen is relentless and wouldn't budge.

When she takes out her purse from one of her drawers she looks to find Rizzoli beside her with that same apologetic gaze she had during the presentation. "Look if I struck a nerve then-"

Olivia stops her there with a raise of the hand. She didn't ask for her pity _or_ her friendship; her main goal is to solve this case. "You didn't strike anything," Olivia states dismissively, slamming her drawer shut, giving no eye-contact until she curtly mumbles "Goodnight" and walks out.

It's too soon to say, but her mind races as she paces through the dark city, with her hand ghosts the handle of her firearm. _You struck more than you'll ever know…_

**A/N: Just a little entail on the case. Don't worry people; there are more Rizzoli/Benson encounters afoot. But you'll only see them with reviews. **

**Coming up: Jane and Olivia are force to partner up. Wonder how that'll go with their brash personalities? Hmm *strokes chin* **


	3. Comfort

**Sorry for the delay. Had to rehearse my lines. Spoilers from SVU's Fault, but who hasn't seen that episode by now? Like seriously? It's been six years now. Get with it. It's on ****USA**** a million of times. -_-**

…

"C'mon Jane," Maura chuckles softly at the detective before she takes a bite of her salad. "She can't be _that _bad."

"She's a total bitch," Jane mumbles through a large portion of her burger, making the blonde scowl disapprovingly.

"I met her. Yes she is a little…distant, but what person isn't when a new person arrives in their habitat."

She never thought she'd say, but Jane actually looked forward to lunch with ol' genius over here and her random trivia. The first half of the day was unproductive and tedious, and when break came she was thrilled to get out of the precinct and spend time with her eccentric, yet loving friend.

"You should really chew your food," Maura points out while Jane sticks out her tongue, revealing the remains of her meat, making Maura's flinch more prominent.

"Be careful Maura; I might have cooties," she smirks before she lets out a snort at her own thought. "Benson might think so by the way she makes every living opportunity to move from me, or defy what I say."

Maura lifts her hazel eyes from her salad, tilts her slightly to the side and gives a quizzical gaze at the brunette- leaving Jane definitely curious.

"What?" Jane arches her brow.

Maura remains silent but her gaze speaks volumes. Jane just wished she knew what the fuck she was saying! "Spit it out Maur," she mumbles annoyingly, taking a bite of her French fry. She'll have to say the only think good about this god forsaken place is the food. It's like a pizza parlor every other store!

"Nothing it's just," the edges of her mouth ghost into a smile, "you've mentioned Detective Benson four times in the last twenty minutes."

Jane makes an audible gulp as she tries to soften the lump growing in her throat with soda. It's true, well she didn't realize it until Maura mentioned it, but yes, it would be plausible to say that she's mention bitch Benson. But she has an excuse. "There's a serial killer roaming around and this is not my state; what is there to talk about?" she says, adding on to her thought.

"Well you could go sight-seeing," Maura offers with a smile. "New York has many historic landmarks, trendy boutiques, and many other attractions to distract you."

"I think a scumbag butchering women is enough of an distraction," Jane snorts as she runs her fingers through her wild curls. "I don't know Maur. This guy…" she groans a low mumble within her throat, cupping her face in her hands; upset that she has to display her feelings. Upset that she _has _them.

She feels one hand being pulled from her face and she then sees Maura placing her small hand over her own to grace the table. "It's perfectly normal to feel afraid-"

"Who said I was afraid?" Jane interrupts with a hiss, yanking her hand out of her hold. Yeah, she feels horrible for what this man has done to so many women, and she feels awful that some children can't live without a mother, but she is by far _not _afraid when it involves herself. "See, this is why I didn't want to come here-"

"Jane that's not what I met-" Maura's tone is reserved, as usual, but there is something behind her eyes that shows her fear.

"Of course not, Maur. You never mean anything you say!" This had been the _second _time Maura has undermined and insulted Jane's ability to solve this case and it hurt just as bad as the first time, if not more. She couldn't stay here with her; she values their friendship too much to say something under the displacement of emotions.

So she gets up, throws some bills from her wallet on the table, and strides off, leaving behind a confused and frantic friend.

She hears her name being called and hears the sharp point of Maura's heels clacking with the floor, but she didn't stop her speed. She needs to be left alone.

"Jane-" she is surprised to feel her hand being clasped from behind her and she, out of sheer reflex, makes a sharp turn with a primal growl.

"What, Maura! What do you want from me that you haven't already taken."

Hazel eyes lay wide and frightened upon her cold brown and for once, she didn't care. Because Maura has hurt her by just _being _there, pretending she wants this, wants something more out of this friendship just to back out when the case is closed. She couldn't do it again, no; she couldn't let Maura make her crumple. Not anymore than the perp has done to her already.

With a sigh she turns on her heel, ignoring the name calling, ignoring her heart deteriorating, and finally walks away. Finally a few blocks from the despondent blonde, she unfortunately finds Benson on the sidewalk, leaning against a black fence, ankles confidently crossed, unabashedly staring.

_Just who I wanted to see, _she sighs rolling her eyes, not in the mood for the inevitable attitude, the silent battle, and the veiling of her own issues. But she has a job to do and her break is over.

Jane couldn't find the strength to put on the façade so she brushes past the New York native, hoping that her draining strength isn't visible.

It was a low, but even comment that stilled her movements.

"Don't let him win. Don't let him take what's already gone."

"Excuse me?" Jane finally recovers with a growl, turning around to face the New Yorker.

"I said, don't let me win."

This is the second time someone has questioned her ability, and this one she couldn't walk away from. Maura is her friend, she would like to believe, but this woman is not. She's someone Jane has to constantly battle with, and she refuses to lose.

"Worry about your own abilities, Benson," she hisses in disgust, but she couldn't hide the hoarse of shame within her tone. She couldn't hide it from herself, no matter how hard she tried, and apparently she couldn't hide it from Benson as well.

"I met Dr. Isles this morning," she goes on to say softly, eyes drifting to her feet before they hit the taller woman's. "She's brilliant, caught something our M.E didn't, and she's…" Jane arches her brow, surprised to see the edges of the New Yorker's mouth curve upward, for once not in a bitter manner. "…eccentric."

"Weird," Jane answers for her, thinking about her friend's awkwardness.

Olivia _really _throws Jane off when she chuckles; a soft, amused sound that gets the Boston detective wary. "Why…why are you doing this?"

The essence of the New Yorker's smile falters as her eyes fade into the distance. She doesn't look angry, she definitely has something to say but whatever it is, it is not bitter or condescending.

_This is a first. _

"A few years ago we had a case…a released sex offender killed a family and kidnapped their children." Jane furrows her brow, wondering how Benson could do this everyday, trying to purify the darkest and most perverse of crime. It'll surely drive her insane. "My partner and I had him…he was going to flee with the two kids, and we had him in the airport. It should've gone smoothly." It was Benson's turn to furrow her brow as she clenches her jaw. She looked so…sorry, and from the small clues she's catching, she has a feeling this case didn't go well.

"He, Gitano, realized he was set up and he took off with the two children. El and I were chasing him and he got too close…" She closes her eyes and Jane has an odd itch to touch her shoulder, but she stops mid way in the air and returns her hand to her side. "I had the gun to him but he was using Ryan as a shield and..." she opens her eyes as she takes a deep breath, as if preparing for something crucial. "He slashed my throat and ran, without the boy, and…Stabler had to make the choice between me and Ryan…and he chose me."

"He had to make sure his partner was okay," Jane finds her raspy voice fading, drifting, like a soft hymn. She's never spoken that way to anyone, especially not another female within the same rank as her, before.

"A boy died because of it!" She growls, catching Jane off guard, her brown eyes flashing in anger before she clenches her jaw and takes a deep breath. "I was fine, I needed a couple stitches, but he didn't cut too deep, but Ryan…he blamed for it. He said I should've took the shot-"

"In risk of shooting the body that was used as a human shield?" Jane furrows her brow. "There could've been more of a catastrophe had you shot him. You did the right thing."

"I know," she nods, "but he…anyway me and El went into his warehouse to get the girl and…he had Stabler at gunpoint. Gitano told me to kill him or he would and…" She really looked shaken up about this, and Jane couldn't stop herself from rubbing the shorter woman's shoulder.

Benson either didn't notice from the apparent pain enveloping her heart, or she didn't seem to mind; so Jane keeps rubbing.

"Well Stabler's here so…I'm taking that..." Jane narrows her eyes, letting her inference become a reality.

"A sniper got him, Gitano," Olivia points out, as if Jane didn't figure it out. She just saw Elliot twenty minutes ago. "But…it seemed to get worse when we were _safe_," she sighs. "He…he really thought that I was going to kill him. That I was going to be the reason of his death, the person to tell his…children. His wife," she self-deprecatingly shakes her head as she makes a grime smile.

Jane eyes lower to the detective's lips, not necessarily conscious of it; it just…suited at the moment. "Why," Jane's voice is soft, "why are you telling me this?"

"Because I don't want you to let this case warp you, and take over you." Jane's eyes align with Benson's to find the New York native with that die-hard expression she was introduced to. "Because of that case, I briefly switched partners. I…couldn't work with someone who couldn't trust me. Who didn't know me. I…me and El worked some things out, but there is still that…gut feeling we have that we don't speak of. That case brought the worst out of each other and…I know deep down he still blames me for what happened. We will never be the same," she whispers, her voice so low and shaky. For the past day she didn't think that Benson was even human, but right now, this expression, the despair written on her face and in her tone, shows that this woman has more to her besides a pigheaded detective.

And for some odd reason Jane feels compelled to comfort her.

"From what you are telling me, you acted in the best of your ability and you made rational thoughts through the whole case. Stabler…" Jane shakes wild curls from her face. "I have no business speaking of him since I am new, but none of this was your fault."

The short woman runs her hands through her dark cropped hair and makes a small, distant nod. "You know…Doctor Isles means more to you than you're letting on."

Jane stiffens, outwardly flinches as if the observation is the plague. It's not far from the truth, but still…this woman shouldn't know much of her considering they've known each other about forty-eight hours. "How is that any of your business?" She didn't mean to sound brash, but the wise observation stilled her, and Jane Rizzoli fights submission- even if she has to claw out of it.

Olivia doesn't seem to be offended when she says "Just…don't let this case ruin your friendship" in that neutral, unreadable expression. "Like it did mine…"

Jane wants to growl at her, tell her to mind her business and that they've surpassed a temporary colleague relationship, but she couldn't. Her eyes stay on the New Yorker, her mind racing in various directions, thinking of a deflective comment. Her mind trails to mush when she looks at…the softness in Benson's eyes, how they appear wider…like a fucking deer. It is enchanting, really.

"I won't…" Jane whispers, her voice just as shaky as Benson's, just as truthful, just as…vulnerable as the New York native.

Olivia makes a concurred nod and friendly rubs on her arm, the way Maura does after their long informing talks, and heads toward the precinct. Jane doesn't know what to think. Was this…some kind of sick joke? Was Benson testing her ability to perform? Was all of this just a lie? The thought of deception burns in the pit of her belly but as she watches the detective, the way her dark blazer lifts from the stride her shapely legs make, and as Jane unconsciously scans her womanly frame, she couldn't help but feel something lower, deeper: intrigued.

* * *

><p>Back at the precinct, nothing seemed to change. Benson was still cold- giving her icy stares whenever she spoke, overlooking her inferences, blatantly ignoring her existence- but for once it didn't bother her. Because she knows there is something more to this woman, something warm that a handful of people, if that Jane thinks, could experience. She doesn't know how she feels, how she should feel, about experiencing that somewhat kindred moment they shared outside of the precinct but she knows one thing.<p>

She is _definitely _intrigued.

**A/N: Was going to give you some more of the case, but I couldn't bear to break this sap up. Partnership next; I promise. Reviews will get chapter 4. **


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